One Winter's Morning: a White Collar fanfic
by KaienCross
Summary: This is my first ever fanfic so comments are appreciated. I use only one cussword ad it isn't anything you wouldn't hear on a PG-13 movie. Character Death


**Disclaimer: I ****DO NOT**** own White Collar or any of its Characters!**

As Neal kept running, he kept his eyes on Peter. Even though they were only 50 yards apart, it might as well have been 50 miles for the conman. Neal saw the gun rise, saw Fowler's grin and knew he had only one choice. Not wasting any breath on speaking, Neal leaped, shoving his partner out of the way as the gun fired.

Neal felt the bullet rip through his chest, and gasped at the sudden pain. It was like a red hot poker had been hammered into his chest. At this point, Neal knew that at such a close range, the .45 teflon coated bullet had ripped straight though his supposedly bulletproof vest. As Neal crashed to the ground, he saw Peter fire a double tap into Fowler, killing him instantly. With that small moment of pleasure, Neal passed out.

:::

_Neal saw Kate for the first time in a long time. She looked radiant, and she was smiling without worry. In her hands she held a vintage 1887 bottle of wine and two glasses. As Neal ran forward to hug his girlfriend for the first time since she had died, the vision suddenly dissipated. It was no longer Kate, just darkness. Yet, distantly he could hear a familiar song, _Closing Time _by_ Supersonic.

_With this ringtone came another voice, but this one sounded panicked. "Dammit Neal, you come back this instant," it demanded. "Please Neal, come on back!"_

_With the voice came pain, and desperately Neal clawed at the dissolving blackness. _

"_Kate, Kate" he cried. "No!"_

:::

Kneeling next to his fallen friend, FBI agent Peter Burk quickly assessed the situation. The Bullet had penetrated straight through the Kevlar, but there was no growing pool of blood. That meant the bullet was still lodged somewhere in Neal's chest.

Placing three fingers on Neal's carotid artery, Peter prayed to find a pulse. Looking around desperately, he saw no one else on the parking garage's roof. Turning his attention back towards his partner, Peter was just in time to feel his partner's heart give out.

At that moment, Peter's cell phone belted out Closing Time, the ringtone selected for his boss. Pulling it out, Peter flipped it open but didn't bother to talk. Focusing on his fallen partner, Peter ripped off the Kevlar vest and started CPR.

"Dammit Neal" he shouted. "You come back this instant. Just because you were shot doesn't mean you can die! I spent years of my life chasing you! Please Neal, come on back!"

But, there was no response and Peter knew time was running out. Hoping that the FBI was tracking his phone, Peter became fiercer with his chest compressions. Neal couldn't die yet, not like this. To Peter, nothing else was important except for the fact that Neal needed to live. They had been great partners, whipping through cases like a kid's birthday party on a gallon of Rocky Road.

Pausing for a moment, aware that he was quickly tiring, Peter once again felt for a pulse. He knew that he could not continue on alone much longer, yet Neal's life depended on it!

"Come on Neal" Peter whispered, pressing hard against the younger man's neck.

Suddenly, as he was about to give up hope, Peter felt a small beat, and then another. Neal was back! Raising his eyes to the heavens, Peter thanked god, and then took off his jacket. It was mid-winter and below freezing with the parking garage concrete floor slick and dangerous.

Wrapping the warm and expensive wool around Neal, Peter slapped the man, once, twice. As he raised his hand for a third blow, Neal sputtered, and gasped. Instantly, he began to cough and as Peter turned Neal onto his side, blood flowed out of his mouth.

"Peter," Neal said weakly. "Peter are you ok?"

"Yes Neal, Peter said gently. "Never do that again. I had a Kevlar vest on too you know! If I have to, you will get a pistol."

"Would you really test me with one even if I was ok with them," Neal croaked, his old smile marred by the trail of blood on the garage's floor.

"Forget I said that," Peter said gruffly.

As Neal began to laugh, he saw Kate again. This time, she was motioning for him to follow, and that he did.

:::

Roaring into the parking garage, a life flight not far behind, Agents Jones, Diana and Hughes flew through the place, ignoring the ice and other dangers in the boss's Bentley. Right now, they had one priority, get to Neal and Peter. According to elevation Intel, the two were on the roof of the garage and moments before, satellite surveillance had confirmed it. It showed Peter, without a jacket, holding Neal close as he leaned against a rail.

As he swerved around the last corner, Hughes slammed on the breaks. Forgetting about the ice, the car began to spin, coming to a stop right before the balcony edge. Hopping out of the car, the three agents ran over to Peter and Neal.

For the first time in a long time, Hughes noted, Neal looked perfectly calm and at peace. Peter, on the other hand, was wet from perspiration, barely conscious and hardly shivering. The sweat had quickly froze in the sub-zero Manhattan air, leaving the man to freeze.

"Peter, Jones said, slapping his fellow agent. "Peter can you hear me?"

"Neal," Peter whispered after a few seconds. "Is that you?"

With a nod from the boss, Jones carefully removed Neal from Peter's grasp. Carefully placing him on the ground, Jones turned his attention back to Peter. The man was both in shock and stage two hypothermic, a deadly combination. With Diana's help, Jones carried Peter back to the Bentley and threw him inside. Cranking up the heat as high as it would go, he grabbed all of the blankets that the agency had packed. Stripping the agent of his soon to be wet shirt, Jones wrapped Peter in all on the blankets that he could and placed the man next to the heating vents.

With that part done, Jones looked outside and saw that Neal was being loaded onto a Life Flight. Diana had hopped in with him and Hughes was running back to the car, sliding on the thin sheets of ice. As the boss slid into the car, he nodded to Jones. It was a silent permission to do whatever was necessary and at that moment, Jones dug under his seat and pulled out a trauma kit. Inside were two bags of warmed saline, a tourniquet and an IV hose with an 18 gauge needle attached. Even with the roads as bumpy as they were, the Bentley felt like it was riding on a cloud. Within seconds, Jones had the IV started as the car rushed lights and sirens on, to the same place the life flight was going, Manhattan General.

:::

Sitting by his partner's bedside, a tired Peter looked over at Neal. The doctors said he didn't have much of a chance with one lung gone and all of the blood loss; but Peter had hope. Neal was a fighter; he would never give up easily.

Yet, the agent had been like this for weeks now. Peter kept hearing talk about the doctors taking Neal off life support, but he refused to believe so. Neal was an FBI agent and the docs would do everything in their power to save him.

"Neal, if you can hear me I just wanted to say I am sorry," Peter said gently. "I was the one Fowler wanted to kill, not you. I am so sorry."

As Peter's emotions spilled over, he began to sob. Even though the two had been opponents for years, they had become friends when they started to work together. June and Elizabeth had come over twice, but neither stayed long. Mozzie was the only one who stayed much, and that was mostly to keep Peter from dwelling with a chess game (which Peter never won).

Peter even suspected that Miss Hunter had even paid her respects when he found a very large ruby clutched in Neal's fist. Of course, he had turned that over to the bureau bot something held Peter back from mentioning were he had found it.

Suddenly, Peter heard the ICU door open and as he turned around, two securities had him by the arms. As the two burly men began to drag Peter away, he began to fight. Tired as he was, the two had trouble holding him and Peter watched in horror as the doctor pronounced Time of Death.

"No," Peter cried as he struggled even harder.

Peter was aware that Jones and Diana were helping to hold him back as well, that they were saying something about Neal being brain dead. But, that didn't matter. Fighting tooth and nail, the FBI/ Security mix were forced to throw Peter to the ground. As a nurse stabbed him in the leg with something, Peter saw the white sheet drawn over Neal's face for the last time. As he began to slip away, Peter was aware of a moment of darkness, and then light.

Neal and Kate were standing in the brightest part of the room, motioning him over. As Peter took one last look at his cold body on the floor, the doctors trying to defibrillate and resuscitate him, Peter smiled. He knew that his heart would give out someday. With only one regret of not saying "see you later" to his wife, Peter moved on, happy to see his old partner and close friend once more.

"Goodbye Liz," Peter said as the three vanished into the light.

:::

As Elizabeth began to perk her car in the hospital parking lot, she received the call. Peter had died of a heart attack; there was nothing the doctors could do.

"I know," she said calmly. "I heard him say goodbye."

The funeral was held four days later, both Peter and Neal being buried in the same cemetery. The bureau had dropped all charges on Neal and got him buried as a hero, one row straight down from Peter Burk. Unknown to all, Mozzie had paid one last visit to his closest friend and "The Suit". With Peter, Mozzie had buried a large rock garden rake and with Neal, Mozzie had buried a priceless chess set made of pure gold belonging to a once famous king,


End file.
